


ends of this lost world

by ScottieIsImpatient



Series: if you left me behind [5]
Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Aftermath of Loss, Angst, Dealing With Loss, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:00:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26982532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScottieIsImpatient/pseuds/ScottieIsImpatient
Summary: Madeline takes care of her brother.
Relationships: Madeline Reed & Malcolm Reed, Madeline Reed/Original Male Character(s)
Series: if you left me behind [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1894453
Comments: 14
Kudos: 10





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Mmm yes, I really am enjoying the series. I can get into some dark emotions I've had in the past and never got the chance to release.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy.

_to the ends of this lost world_

_you have marched and you have sworn_

_to a tainted crown of thorns._

\- Whereabouts Unknown, Rise Against

* * *

The fourth stair creaked.

She’d been meaning to get that fixed for a while now but there never seemed to be any time. On top of taking care of her brother and making sure he didn’t decide to jump out a window, she had her own work to attend to, her own job. Her boss was becoming impatient with her. _“If he’s so much trouble, put him in professional care. We need you here, Ms. Reed.”_

Madeline sighed as she finally reached the top of the staircase and peered into her brother’s room. As usual, he was seated on the side of his bed, his back to her. The weight he’d lost was prominent even from this distance.

 _I won’t abandon you,_ she promised silently.

Even her own parents wanted him to put him in some kind of hospital. _“He’s beyond help, dear. You can’t waste the rest of your life playing nurse.”_

Playing nurse? Was that what they called taking care of your sibling nowadays? Madeline scoffed inwardly at the notion. Then she nudged the bedroom door open with her shoulder, the tray occupying her hands, and smiled though he could not see it. “Hey, Malcolm. I brought you some lunch.”

There was no response. Madeline wasn’t deterred.

“Peanut butter sandwiches. We’re out of pancakes, I’m afraid, but Levi promised me he’d pick up some mix at the store today.”

 _Playing nurse_. It wasn’t like she was alone in this. Her boyfriend of three years, Levi, was more than happy to assist wherever possible. Malcolm had even started to become more relaxed around him. Not in the way he was with her, but the sight of Levi’s blond hair didn’t make him cry anymore.

“Oh, and some fresh carrots from Mr. Auburn’s garden. He sends you his regards. I have your midday meds here, too, and some tea to wash them down with.” Gently, she set the tray on the old desk she’d set up in the room. It was Malcolm’s from his boyhood days – her father had found it buried in the garage after all these years. Madeline was planning to donate it to a family down the street when Malcolm had arrived. “Come on, Mallie. You gotta eat.”

The softest of sighs came from her brother. Moments later he turned his head to look at her, the pain forever etched onto his features. Madeline noticed in dismay that the cut on his forehead had opened again and was bleeding into his eye. He must have scratched at it.

“Come on,” Madeline coaxed again.

Gingerly, Malcolm seated himself at the desk. He reached for one of the sandwiches slices that had been cut into triangles… and stared at it. And continued to stare at it.

“Malcolm?” Madeline whispered.

“I’m not a child, Maddie.”

The words startled her to near cardiac arrest. “I-I’m sorry?”

“I’m not a child,” Malcolm repeated, a hint of anger slithering into his tone. He gestured to the sandwich. “You cut them in triangles. Like I’m a child.”

“Oh.” Madeline swallowed. “Malcolm-”

“You think I’m helpless.”

“No!”

“You _do._ ” Malcolm’s hollow grey eyes drilled into her very soul like they were accusing her of something. “You bring me my meals, cut up my sandwiches… you think I’m just a child, unable to take care of myself!” The anger in his voice rose and rose and tremors wracked through his body. “Just a poor, broken child! Helpless to do even the _simplest_ of tasks! You even _speak_ to me like I’m a child! Lord, Maddie, I’m just so _sick_ of it! I’m sick of _everything!”_ The final word was emphasized with the swipe of his hand, sending the tray flying and its contents clattering to the floor. The cup of tea shattered, staining the carpet pale brown, the shards bouncing before coming to rest at their feet.

“Oh, god…” Malcolm’s voice had lost all edge. Heart clenching, Madeline watched the realization dawn on him, clouding his eyes; watched him sink to his knees with his hands over his ears. “Oh, god. No, no, no, I’m sorry- Mads, I’m so sorry- I’m sorry…”

“It’s alright.” Madeline stepped over the ceramic shards and knelt beside her brother. _Should I touch him? I’m not sure…_ “It’s okay, Mallie.”

“It’s _not!_ ” Malcolm hissed, his voice catching. “It’s not okay… I-I could have hurt you, Mads- I’m sorry, I could have hurt you…”

Now holding back her own tears, Madeline rubbed soothing circles along her brother’s back. “Calm down, Malcolm. It’s okay. I’m not hurt. I’m not hurt, see?” Her only response was a strangled sob. “We’ll get you something else for lunch. How do instant noodles sound? Or are you still all noodle-d out from your high school days?”

“Not hungry,” Malcolm mumbled.

“That’s rubbish.” Madeline shook her head. “Come downstairs. We’ll find something better than floor sandwich. Oh-” from downstairs, the front door opened and shut “- that must be Levi back with the pancake mix. I know you can’t resist pancakes, Malcolm.”

Malcolm lifted his head and offered his sister the first genuine smile she’d seen in months.

* * *

Madeline all but collapsed onto the couch, immediately snuggling close to her boyfriend like a cat wanting attention. She’d never admit it – especially not to her parents – but some days Malcolm ran her ragged. She could hardly blame him, though. He’d held his best friend in his arms as he died, and not only that, but the object of his secret affections, if his past letters home were anything to go by. Malcolm always did seem to hopelessly fall for blonds. He once joked, before all this happened, that he might swoop in and steal Levi if Madeline weren’t careful.

Yet now all blonds did was make Malcolm cry.

“How’s he doing?” Levi asked softly. He’d turned down the volume on the TV to near mute, wrapping an arm around her. Madeline sighed.

“He… smiled today.”

“He did? Awesome! What about?”

A grin of her own tugged on Madeline’s lips. “Pancakes.”

Levi snapped his fingers in the classic _gosh-darn-it_ motion. “Should’ve guessed. D’you think that’s the reason why he’s getting less rigid in my presence? Because I bring the pancakes?”

“No… I’m sure there’s other reasons.”

“Oh, yeah? Like what?” Levi challenged.

Madeline gazed up at her boyfriend and smiled mischievously. “You bring chocolate too.”

“Shut up.” Levi pushed her away and now Madeline was laughing, really laughing for the first time in weeks, and Levi was laughing along with her. When it died, the room delved into silence once more, save for the occasional muttering from the TV.

“Really, though,” said Levi, “how is he doing?”

Madeline felt her heart clench and tears prick her eyes. On the days Malcolm drove her ragged, she wondered if he’d ever get better at all. “Can we please not talk about it?” she begged quietly. “Please.”

Levi got the hint. “Alright,” he whispered.

After a few moments he could feel the sobs trembling through his girlfriend’s body and felt tears soak through his shirt, but he didn’t say a word.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Usual warning for dark shit, mentions of suicide, etc.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been putting this off for a while and then BAM - inspiration. 
> 
> Keep in mind, I'm not a doctor. I pretty much made up most of this, or used my own personal experiences. (Except I went to the train tracks because there isn't a river anywhere near us. Thank god there were no trains that night)
> 
> Anyway, uh, yeah. Enjoy(?)

Madeline’s foot slipped as she ran into a particularly thick patch of mud. Her free arm, the one not holding the torch, shot out for something to grab. It ended up latching to a low branch, the bark scratching against her palm. Madeline barely noticed. Her heart pounded furiously, her breathing quick and uneven despite the breathing exercises she’d been trying to use for the last… was it fifteen minutes now? No, twenty.

Twenty minutes since the search had begun.

Rain dripped down her face, making it impossible to discern from tears. Madeline cautiously let go of the tree branch and continued in a jog through the wooded area, screaming her brother’s name through an already abused throat. Scattered amongst the trees were some policeman, a medic, and Levi, all shouting the same thing.

He’d been doing so well, too.

Madeline choked back a sob as she recalled the terror that had consumed her when she’d realized Malcolm wasn’t back from his walk. Why on earth had she let him go alone?

She’d waited five minutes, hoping maybe he was just late, before trying to call him. He hadn’t responded. Another ten minutes had passed before she tried again – still no answer. That was when she’d informed Levi, and Levi had called the police.

Two and a half hours later, the sun had fallen below the horizon, they still had no idea where Malcolm was. His communicator had been discovered forty-five minutes ago; his bio-sign thirty, but with the prolonged cloudburst they found themselves caught in, the bio-sign couldn’t be narrowed down further than this particular area.

Near the river.

Madeline felt a lump begin to form in her throat. Surely, he wouldn’t…?

“Miss Reed!” someone called, forcing her out of what could have been a dangerous spiral. “He’s over here!”

She’d never run faster for anything in her life. It didn’t seem possible, but somehow her heart had increased its pace. She felt winded. Her throat was sore and scratchy, her legs were aching, but the words had revived the adrenaline in her body.

She reached the crowd gathering at the riverbank, coming up just beside Levi, who grabbed her by the shoulders to stop her. His eyes were sunken. “What is it?” Madeline pleaded desperately, trying to see past him. Her mouth had dried up, worst case scenarios spiralling through her mind. “Where is he? I need to see him, Levi!”

“Maddie, calm down,” her boyfriend whispered. “Please. He needs you to be calm. Are you calm?”

The present tense drained some of the terror she’d been feeling. Madeline took a deep breath and nodded.

Levi let his gaze linger for a moment longer, perhaps trying to figure out if she was telling the truth, before nodding as well and stepping out of the way. Madeline toned down her torch to the dimmest setting and shined it carefully where all the others were aimed. Her breath caught in her throat.

Malcolm had their back to them. He was standing in the river.

Malcolm, who’d been afraid of water since he was a toddler; who panicked whenever their father proposed a beach trip, was standing in the river, the water reaching almost to his waist, kissing the hem of his shirt. He seemed as still as a statue.

“Malcolm?” Madeline whispered, inching closer.

He didn’t even move.

She kicked off her mud-stained runners, ignoring the unpleasant squelch socked feet made against wet sand, and stepped forward once more. The water had to have been cold, but after running about in the rain for hours, she didn’t notice.

Madeline moved as slow as possible. She had no desire to startle her brother, fearful at what he might do. Why was he standing here, deathly still, in the middle of the rain? He wasn’t even shivering. Madeline’s heart stopped at the realization. “Malcolm?” she tried again.

Finally, she was shoulder to shoulder with him. His pale face seemed even paler in the low glow of her torch, and his face was streaked with dirt, sap, and lines where tears had cut through. He breathed shallowly through almost blue lips.

Madeline outstretched her hand to touch him, halting at the last minute. She didn’t know what to do now that she was out here. Talk to him? Yeah, that was probably the safest bet. “Malcolm, what are y-”

“I couldn’t go further,” Malcolm interrupted softly. Not a single crack could be heard in the words. He sounded… blank.

“What do you mean?” Madeline coaxed.

Before he could say anything more, Malcolm’s body turned to jelly, his legs collapsing from beneath him. Madeline caught him just in time, screaming hoarsely for help as she dragged her brother back to shore. He felt awfully light in her arms and so dreadfully cold. A morbid part of her was convinced he’d dropped dead on the spot.

She laid Malcolm as gently as she could onto the sandy bank. A pair of medics came over; one running a scan up and down Malcolm’s body, the other preforming a hasty full-body check. Levi came over with an umbrella and held it up to shield them from the rain.

Madeline remained at her brother’s side, Malcolm’s name escaping her lips every so often in strangled, breathy tones. Shivering violently, she brought a hand up to his face, once again shocked at the ice-cold skin beneath her fingertips. Her only confirmation that he was still alive was the soft, wheezy breathing, and the slight movement of his chest.

A siren started somewhere nearby, growing louder and louder as it came close. Madeline barely noticed the ambulance barrelling down the unofficial path – all her focus was on deciphering the medics’ words of diagnosis. _Hypothermia,_ she heard. _Pneumonia… unresponsive._ None of it sounded good.

The following few minutes were a blur. Madeline had no idea how she got from crouching at Malcolm’s side to sitting in the back of an ambulance crying in Levi’s arms, and she didn’t much care.

* * *

It was still cold. She may have had a fuzzy blanket over her body, a cup of coffee clenched between shivering hands, and the heating may’ve been up considerably high for a hospital, but she still felt abnormally cold.

Levi appeared to realize this, for he leaned closer and began to rub his hand up and down Madeline’s arm. She gave him a teary-eyed smile.

They’d spent all night at the hospital, napping in uncomfortable armchairs or in each other’s laps. At one point Madeline had fallen asleep with her arms folded underneath her chin, resting on her brother’s hospital bed, until one of the nurses came in and told her almost regretfully that it was messing up the scans.

The worst was over. Malcolm had survived the night, his body temperature brought back up to a reasonable degree. He had, indeed, caught pneumonia, but the doctors had assured Madeline and Levi that a little rest and medicine would fix him right up.

The physical problems, anyway.

Madeline’s eye wandered down to the bright red medical bracelet encasing Malcolm’s right wrist. The bracelet that read _danger to self - suicidal._ The bracelet that wouldn’t be leaving for months, if not a year.

Their usual doctor came in and explained to Madeline how many steps had been taken backwards. Malcolm would no longer be allowed outside on his own, even for five minutes. His med dosage had been increased. He was expected to check in by phone every day, and once a week personally.

And worst of all, he’d been checked in to residency at the adult psychiatric hospital for the next two weeks.

“It’s not because they don’t trust you,” Levi assured Madeline once the doctor left. “If they didn’t trust you, they would have taken him out of your care altogether. He just needs some time to regroup. Some time around professionals.”

Madeline only shook her head. “That’s not it,” she sobbed. She stood unsteadily and approached Malcolm’s bedside, slipping her hand into his. He had a false sense of peace in his features. Malcolm always had life about him, even while he slept. He twitched and muttered and sometimes he even smiled if he was having a pleasant dream.

He was never this uncannily still. Never this pale. Never this broken.

“I failed him,” Madeline choked. Her grip on her brother’s hand tightened. She abandoned herself to the sobs wracking her body and collapsed into the plastic chair next to the bed – scans be damned as she buried her face into the mattress.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A face from the past makes an appearance...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is set maybe three months after the events of the last chapter? And if y'all are wondering how much time has passed in total: it's been almost a year since the events of "if you left me behind".
> 
> **Rating change from Mature to Explicit was on purpose**

It was nearing midnight when the call came through. Madeline, fingers hovering above the shutdown key and only half focused, jumped at the alert. Why was her volume that loud? Feeling rather grumpy, she moved to ignore.

Then she saw the caller ID.

 _Oh, my lord,_ she thought. Of all people she’d expected, it certainly wasn’t _him._ And why so late? Surely, he knew Malcolm was asleep by now. At least, he wasn’t to be disturbed. The doctors assigned a bedtime at ten (which Malcolm complained about – he wasn’t a child after all) and for no disturbances other than Madeline checking in to see if he was still there. It was supposed to help with his sleep pattern.

Madeline was convinced it only hindered.

With a jolt, Madeline realized the call request was still blinking on the screen. She pressed accept.

“Hello, Ms. Reed,” the caller said, his voice low, solemn. “I hope you’ll forgive me for the hour. I forgot about the time difference.” He gestured to the window behind Madeline’s shoulder.

Madeline swallowed. “Uh, hello, Capt- Mr. Archer. No, don’t worry. Um… is there something you needed?”

Archer sighed heavily, staring at his hands. Even he looked a bit unsure. “I… wanted to speak to Malcolm,” he said eventually. “But I understand he’ll be-”

“I’m right here.”

Both Madeline and Archer jumped simultaneously at the voice. Surprise, and perhaps joy danced in Archer’s eyes, but the Reed sister only felt annoyance and worry.

“Malcolm? What on Earth are you doing up?” She got up from her chair and stepped closer, hoping the microphone wouldn’t pick up her words. “You should be in bed. The doctor-”

“Sod the doctor.” Even in a weary tone, Malcolm could still pack a bite in his remarks. “I wish to speak to the Captain.”

Only Madeline noticed the flinch on Archer’s face at the address.

“It’s alright, Mads,” Malcolm added more softly. His eyes flickered over to the monitor, then back at his sister. Longing held clear in them. With a deep breath, Madeline relented.

“Fine. But I’m waiting right outside the door. Mr. Archer, sir-” she too looked at the computer monitor “-if he does anything – _says_ anything – potentially harmful to himself, please shout.” The last thing she wanted to do was embarrass her brother in front of the man he often held in high regard but in this case, she hadn’t much choice. Malcolm seemed to realize this.

“Thanks,” he muttered as he sat down at the desk.

Madeline hovered at the study door, teeth drilling into her nails until they bled. She kept an ear out for any disturbances, no matter how slight they seemed. Silence, too. Malcolm often dived into sudden silence before a panic attack.

No such thing came. In fact, Malcolm’s tone only grew more joyful the longer the call went on. Madeline couldn’t hear his words but whatever they were, they were being said with an eagerness she’d never thought she’d see again.

Levi came downstairs for a drink at half past, bleary eyed, confused, and running into walls without his glasses. “I thought you were some demon!” he exclaimed, approaching the fuzzy brown outline that was his girlfriend.

Madeline chuckled.

“What are you doing down here? I thought you said you’d be in bed in five minutes.”

“I know, I’m sorry. But Mr. Archer called, asking after Malcolm, and for some ungodly reason he was down here lurking behind me like an _actual_ demon.”

“And he’s-” Levi gestured towards the study “-in there? Talking? To his old boss?”

“Indeed.” Madeline’s face lit up in a grin. “He sounds so… so happy, too.”

“You’re not eavesdropping, are you?”

“I have to make sure he’s not saying anything bad,” she defended. “Besides. I can hear his tone; not really his words.”

Levi got his drink and clambered up the stairs, while Madeline waited for the call to finish. Five minutes later, the study door opened, and out stumbled Malcolm. Even in the low light the outline of tears was visible on his cheeks. Madeline immediately jumped into action.

“What’s wrong?” she pleaded, grabbing him by the shoulders. “Malcolm? Oh, dear, what happened?”

Weakly, her brother batted her away. “I’m fine, Mads, I’m fine.”

“Fine? You’re crying!”

“Oh.” Malcolm brought a hand to his cheek and frowned. “So, I am. Uh, but it’s not what you think.” Madeline waited for an elaboration, which Malcolm gave after a few moments. “Captai- _Jon_ and I were just… we talked. He told me about- about what some of the old crew are doing. And other things, too. Porthos met a lady dog. They have puppies.” He sniffled. “It kept my mind off… _him,_ you know? I-I’ve always avoided Arche- Jon because he was Trip’s best friend, and I couldn’t… I couldn’t stand it.”

Malcolm was crying again. Gently, Madeline pulled him closer to her, arms over his shoulders. Malcolm continued.

“I thought- I used to think Jon blamed me. For Trip. Because I was there, an-and I couldn’t do anything. I shut down. The world went grey, Mads. It’s still so grey. I can’t see- since him- I couldn’t…” Malcolm drew in a shuddering breath, his explanations turning into silent sobs. Madeline felt a tear of her own run down her cheek.

“It’s okay,” she whispered. “You don’t have to tell me. Not until you’re ready. And there’s Doctor Cabrera, I’m sure he can help you.”

“But I don’t want him,” Malcolm whined, almost childlike in tone. “Geez, Mads, I don’t want some… dispassionate doctor who pours medication down my throat like it’s going out of stock. I don’t want to talk about my feelings to someone who will only respond with clinical advice. You know I’ve always been… closed off.

“I don’t want just a doctor. I want to talk to someone who understands me. I want my sister.”

Madeline’s breath caught. Relief flooded through her, followed quickly by immense guilt. Yes, she’d longed for the day her brother would open up to her, but now that it had arrived, she felt unsure of herself. How would she be able to help? Could she help at all? What if she said the wrong thing? Malcolm had only been back from the psychiatric ward for a few months, after all, and she’d been warned he still wasn’t completely stable. He likely never would be.

“All right,” she heard herself say. “All right. We’ll talk tomorrow. For now, we both need to get to bed. It’s one in the morning.”

Malcolm opened his mouth to object, shut it again, then nodded. “Yes. You’re right.”

“Come on.” One hand on her brother’s back, the other on the railing, Madeline led them up the stairs.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas! Have some angst.
> 
> Okay, it's not actually that angsty in this chapter. Well. Compared to my previous chapters, that is.
> 
> I kinda struggled writing Malcolm's parents here because, while I don't think Stuart Reed was outright abusive, he certainly could've been a hell of a better father. And finding that balance was awkward and annoying for me.
> 
> Hope y'all enjoy anyway!

It became a regular occurrence for Jonathan Archer to call. Every Saturday at eight in the evening (they managed to sort out the time differences), the alert would blink on the screen and Madeline would drop whatever it was she’d been doing to call Malcolm down. He fell into the routine quickly, and soon he could be found hovering outside the study door at 7:59, fidgeting anxiously, with his head bowed.

And it helped him, it really did. The weight of some – not all – of the guilt was lifted off his shoulders. He smiled more often, ate more frequently. It was as if his spirit had been rejuvenated.

Madeline couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen him this happy.

* * *

On a certain Saturday at 7:30pm, a call alert blinked on the screen. He’s early, thought Madeline, and pushed back her chair to holler for her brother, when something else caught her eye.

_Incoming call. Location: Malaysia._

Madeline’s heart dropped to the pits of the Earth. Surely, it couldn’t be them, right? They hadn’t bothered to even write since Madeline first took Malcolm under her care.

Oh, she’d written to _them,_ of course. They’d practically demanded it those eleven months ago. But not a single response was given, not the slightest bit of interest they showed in the health of their own son.

Swallowing her anger down, Madeline clicked accept.

It was a staring match for the first few seconds. Madeline studied her parents carefully, studied the stale, fussy living room they called home. Her mother offered a tight smile; her father merely frowned.

“Madeline.”

“Mother. Father.” The Reed sister inclined her head slightly in greeting. “How may I help you?”

“We rather hoped,” her mother said, “to talk to Malcolm tonight. Is he around?”

Malcolm was, in fact, relaxing out in the back garden under Levi’s watchful eye. “No,” Madeline replied shortly. “Sorry, you just missed him.”

“Lying will get you nowhere,” Reed Senior butted in before his wife could even open her mouth. “I know for a fact that Malcolm hasn’t been allowed to leave your property without your supervision. Why do you insist on hiding him from us?”

“I’m not _hiding_ him-”

“No, of course not. You’re simply barring us from talking to our own son.”

Madeline swallowed thickly, anger reaching its boiling point.

Her father’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Now listen here, Madeline. Your signature may be underneath whatever paper stating Malcolm is in your care, but I’m still his father. I demand to speak with him.”

_Demand, huh?_ “Sorry, but I can’t allow that. Malcolm only just got out of the hospital. He’s still quite delicate-”

“Delicate!” her father scoffed loudly. “Reed men are not delicate.”

“I don’t recall any Reed man witnessing the death of his best friend.”

“If he’d only joined the Navy like he was supposed to-”

“Both of you, enough,” Mary Reed snapped, effectively shutting the two stubborn arguers up. “I’d like a word with you, Madeline. Stuart, go put the kettle on.”

“Mary-”

“ _Out!_ ”

Madeline grinned smugly as the colour drained from her father’s face. Without another word, he stood up and left the room. The sound of a door shutting soon followed him.

“Good,” Mary huffed. “Now that he’s out of the way.” She turned back to the camera, genuine concern – and quite possibly tears – dancing in her eyes. “Answer me honestly, please, Maddie. How is Malcolm?”

Madeline cast her eyes downwards, sighing. “He’s getting there, mum. His old Captain – uh, Jonathan Archer – called us for the first time a few weeks ago. Malcolm talks to him every Saturday now. It seems to be helping.”

“That’s good.” The smile on her mother’s face wobbled and she spoke again after a few moments of silence. “Madeline, I know it’s hard to believe, but your father cares about him too.”

“It’s not just _hard_ to believe – it’s impossible.” Madeline chewed on the nails of her right hand.

“He does, Maddie. He just doesn’t know how to express it very well.”

“Well, maybe he could try for something more _loving-_ ” Madeline’s fists crashed onto the desk with a muted thump “-instead of _demanding_ to see him like Malcolm owes him something! Not to mention how he devalued Mal’s mental state just now. Honestly, mum, are you deaf?” The insult slipped out in the heat of her anger. Fortunately, Mary Reed didn’t even flinch.

“Yes, I know. I’ve talked to him about it but I’m afraid he’s being rather pigheaded. He’ll come around in time.”

“Not soon enough,” Madeline grumbled.

“Oh, do put some faith in him, Maddie.” Another pause. “I… understand if you’d rather not have Malcolm speak to us right now. Just have him write at least, okay?”

“Why? So you can ignore him like you ignore me?”

“That’s not it at all,” her mother pleaded. “I apologize for the lack of correspondence, we’re quite unsure of what to say. That’s why we called after all this time. A face-to-face chat is always somewhat easier.”

Madeline glanced at the corner of her monitor, at the clock which now read 7:45. “Indeed. Look, mum, you know what I said about Mr. Archer calling? I’ve got about fifteen minutes before that comes through and I’d rather not have Malcolm sneak in here and catch me talking to you. I don’t know how he’d react. Bloody hell, he’s so quiet, skulking around like that.”

“He always was,” her mother laughed. “Take care, Maddie. I’ll go make sure your father isn’t destroying the kitchen in an impulsive fit. You _will_ tell Malcolm to write, won’t you?”

“I will,” Madeline promised.

“Good. Love you, dear.”

The screen went black.

* * *

“You want me to _what_?”

Madeline flinched, unaccustomed to such loud exclamations coming from her brother’s mouth. “It’s just a letter, Mal. Mum and dad would love to hear from you.”

Malcolm scoffed and resumed to pulling up weeds. He hadn’t put any gloves on, and his hands were filthy, his nails caked in dirt. “Now mum, I could believe. But father? The old man couldn’t care _less_ about me.”

“That’s not true.” Never in her life could Madeline have guessed she’d one day be defending her father.

Malcolm sighed, sat back on his heels, and wiped a hand across his forehead. He left a streak of dirt on his face. “I’m not sure, Mads. Besides, aren’t you always complaining about how they don’t respond to your letters?”

“I really think you should write to them, Malcolm. Even if it’s just a page saying, _“I’m fine, now fuck off”._ They want to know that you’re… stable.”

“Well, I’m hardly stable,” Malcolm deadpanned, “but if… You know what? Fine.” He got to his feet and dusted his hands off on his jeans. “I’ll send them a word or two. I’m stealing your idea, though.”

Madeline grinned. “Sounds perfect. Just remember to wash your bloody hands before you touch my computer!” she hollered after her brother as he headed inside.


End file.
